Two Adventures in Poland by Abby F

Junice shuddered. It was overcast, and chilly. She was quickly learning that this part of Poland was like that often. In the event that the sun did peak out from behind the steely gray cloud wall, it was quickly ushered back behind. She wasn’t even sure why she was here now, it definitely wasn’t a place she normally would have found herself in. a few weeks ago she hadn’t even thought much about going out of Harlem, let alone going across the sea. This was Damian’s doing.

“Come on, Junice. Think of it as an adventure. You and I, on an adventure!” He seemed so excited, there was no way she could have denied him this trip. She was still reeling that Damian was even still with her. After all of the events that had just passed, she was convinced he would decide she wasn’t worth the hassle. Her mother was still in prison, and she was utterly alone, left to fend for herself and her little sister by herself. Damian was valiant though, and persevered through the tough times.

She curled her hand further around her mug. She was in a small bar-like establishment, but it certainly wasn’t like any pub back home. The people here were few and far between, and hostile to boot. They all walked around like they had a huge backpack glued to their shoulders, and no matter what, they couldn’t shake it. Did they even want to? Junice asked herself, smirking into her cup. The steam rose from it in wispy tendrils, rushing by her nose with a warm heat. It even seemed in a hurry to escape this downcast place. Would I even want to? She cast a glance at the dreary faces claiming spots on barstools and booths. Maybe this wasn’t so unlike Harlem. A lot of people there seemed to be frozen where they were; their futures stapled to them before they could even begin to dream of something better. She knew she felt that way. Under any other circumstances, Junice would be at home now, in her cramped apartment, helping Ms. Rosie take care of Melissa (granted a judge had decided Ms. Rosie was competent enough to do so). Probably cooking what she could find lying around. Maybe she’d be at the jail, talking to her mother? Not here, in Poland, drinking a questionable substance in a sketchy little bar.

Without even realizing, Junice shivered. The atmosphere changed as the entrance door swung open, blasting the room with a chilling breeze. Customers drew back apprehensively, sneering and muttering innuendos in Polish. She turned, hoping to see Damian’s bright, lovely face approaching her. She wanted to see him more than anything right now. However, realization hit her with a muted pang. It wasn’t Damian, not even close. It was some woman, probably from the states, she assessed. She had dark hair and dark eyes. She wore a large wool sweater, and was hugging herself, obviously not impervious to the cold. Despite the circumstances, she had a far away smile on her face. She was visibly preoccupied. She floated over to the barstool next to her. She slid onto it, and waved over the bartender. They exchanged some words, and she ordered something in broken Polish. The bartender sighed, appearing to be inconvenienced in some way. Isn’t this your job? She thought bitterly, sipping on her now luke warm drink. She was surprised at herself for being so cynical. She frowned, bewildered at how she suddenly got so hostile.

The bartender slammed the woman’s drink onto the counter, jostling Junice out of her thoughts. After taking a sip and grimacing lightly, she turned to her.

“Hi, I’m Becca. What’s your name?”

“I, uhhh, I’m Junice,” She answered warily. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you seemed like someone who knew English,” she glanced over her shoulder, then back to Junice, tipping her chin towards the others. “Unlike most of the other people here, I assume.”

“I see. So how are you getting around if you don’t know Polish?” It was quite an endeavor to try, Junice thought. Damian had thought of everything. He somehow managed to find a translator, cheap.

“Oh, well you see, I’m here on a quest of sorts.” She seemed to look past Junice for a moment, and then refocused. “This used to be the site of a concentration camp, did you know that?” Juniced nodded. “Oh, well take my word for it. My grandmother escaped from here back in the 1940’s. She died recently, and we became curious about our family’s past. Sadly, nobody else in my family was that curious,” She took another sip. “So I’m here on my own. My boss helped me coordinate a trip, translator and all, and all I have to do in exchange is write an article about my findings when I return to the states.” Junice was suddenly intrigued.

“Have you found out what happened yet?”

“Yes, it took me a while, and I had to follow a very complicated trail, but I did. My grandmother left me a mystery of sorts to solve.” Reading her confused expression, Becca continued. “She used to tell my sisters and I a fairytale, the same one every time. It was Briar Rose, you know, like Sleeping Beauty?” Junice nodded, even though she wasn’t completely sure. She didn’t really think much about her life before now, she had more important things to do besides reminisce. “Well, before she died, my grandmother told me that she was Briar Rose. She wanted me to find her ‘castle.’ Everyone was skeptical. They all said she was too old, and that she was just rambling. But I promised her.” She said this fervently. “So despite my family’s’ better wishes, I came here to uncover the past. So here I am, with new knowledge and a promise fulfilled.” She grinned. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m with my sister and my boyfriend. We’re, uh, on an adventure, I guess.” Becca nodded. “Here of all places? Not much of an adventure if you ask me.”

“I didn’t think so either. I don’t think it’s much of an adventure, either.”

“Oh really?” Becca’s interest seemed piqued.

“Yeah. I think he wants us to be away from DSS and his mom, to be completely honest. Why do you care?” She wasn’t used to having random strangers caring about her like this.

“Oh, sorry to pry, but I’m a reporter. It’s what I do.” She blushed a little.

“Okay, then I want to pry.” Junice smiled, wanting to change the subject before she was asked to explain further. “Do you have a boyfriend?” Becca looked down. “I really don’t know. I think – no, I – um. I don’t know. There is someone, but I really couldn’t tell you.” Junice nodded. “I get it.”

Just then, the door opened again. This time it was Damian. He ushered Melissa in quickly and quietly into the bar. The translator followed behind, speaking thickly accented English ardently.

“You can’t be in here, not with that one!” He scolded, pointing to Melissa. “It’ll only be a second,” Damian assured him. “Junice, we have to go, sorry love.” Junice looked back to Becca. “I guess this is when I go. Good luck with your, uh, love interest? And your article.” Becca nodded, and looked at Damian and Melissa. “Good luck to you too. It seems as though you’re in capable hands.” With that, Junice got up, leaving Becca and her mug at the booth.